Chapter 39
They had walked until nearly dark. He brought her to Cecelia’s door. Edwina didn’t know what to say. Spencer had done nothing more than kiss her, she reminded herself.
“I have to go to work,” he said, looking away as he shoved his hands in his suit pockets.
“I’m really sorry, Spencer.”
“For what?” He turned and gazed into her eyes.
“That you have to go to work without sleeping. I know you should have used these last few hours for rest before you went to your second job.”
Spencer shook his head. Was that all? She was always thinking of someone else. Winnie didn’t know that he had the beginnings of a wounded heart... he’d only just begun to know her. Now she would be leaving and what could he say? He hadn’t had enough time. Not nearly enough time.
“Will you stay in touch?” he asked.
“Sure, if you want me to.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.”
“Okay,” she said quietly and unlocked the door.
“Bye, Edwina,” he said, and she saw the sadness on his face before he turned toward the elevator. Such goings on twirled her brain into braids. This and that. Twisted and intertwined. Life was so... so detailed. Sunday morning came, and Edwina was up and dressed. She asked Cecelia to go to church with her. They’d never done that before. Cecelia had agreed last evening, but shehad not liked it one bit.
“Cecelia, are you about ready?” Her sister walked in.
“I’m ready. Let’s get going, I have things to do today.”
“Okay. You look nice.” Cecelia had chosen a black suit. Apropos for her mood perhaps?
“I’ve been to church before. Stop looking at me like that.” Edwina smile.
“Like what?”
“You know, like we were going to a funeral or something.”
“Are we?”
“How should I know? The only time I’ve been in church is for funerals,” she groused.
“Ah, so that’s the reason for the black?” Edwina tried to be playful.
Cecelia looked down at her outfit and then back up at her sister.
Edwina could not hold it in. Her sister’s comical look— caught for the very first time, no doubt, not sure if she were properly dressed for the occasion.
“What’s so funny? Look what you’re wearing. Besides, who’s the one with fashion sense around here?” Cecelia’s perfect brows went upward in unison.
“That would be you... most of the time... all of the time... except now?” Edwina’s chuckle could not be stopped.
Her sister’s look pegged her perfectly—like the tail being pinned on the donkey.
Edwina forbade herself to lose control but she couldn’t, to save her life, keep the smirk from creeping up on her lips.
“See, you’re smirking.” Cecelia pointed.
“I am. I can’t help it. This is just so funny, Cecelia. Our last day together, on our way to church, and we’re fussing about clothes. Who cares how we look anyway?”
“Well, I care.” Her sister couldn’t seem to find any more words. Then did. “You just never know who you might meet. The mayor goes to church, so does the President of the United States.”
“God looks at the heart, sis.” Edwina had no trouble speaking; her heart was struck through with love for her sister at the moment.
“Well, I’m sure He sees the outside too,” she huffed. “I’ll go change. Perhaps God will see the inside, but everyone else will see the outside.”
No one but God saw Edwina’s tender smile and the two tears that fell down her face.
She was leaving her sister, whom she’d grown closer to lately. And Spencer... that last kiss had allowed a fission of hope into her usually closed heart. Lord, am I doing the right thing?
“All right, how’s this?”
“You look beautiful,” Edwina whispered, and it was true. Her sister had on a blue flowered dress cinching Cecelia’s slender waist. A blue scarf was at her neck. “Where did you get that dress? I’ve never seen it before.”
“That’s because it was my mother’s. She wore this exact dress when she did Baby Dolls on Broadway.”
Edwina walked over and felt the silky fabric. “Really?”
“Yes. I’ve had it for ever so long and never thought to put it on.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. It’s beautiful on you. Do you look like your mother did in it?”
“Yes, I have several snapshots from the newspapers. I look very much like she did then.”
“Time . . .” Edwina’s voice wavered.
“Oh come now. We’re not going to discuss such matters. I hate even to think what I shall look like in ten years.”
“Oh Cecelia, you’ll be beautiful then too.”
“Stop. This fluff talk is driving me to distraction. After church we’re going to Rex’s.”
“In our flowery dresses?” It was Edwina’s turn to stand there, mouth agape, looking down at her flowery skirt. Rex’s was black-tie only.
“They’ll let me in,” Cecelia stated. “I bet they will. Let’s go.” The car took them to a downtown church, the closest
one, which happened to be several blocks from the condo. Cecelia looked nervous but trotted along, her white heels
clicking. Edwina settled herself into a pew, and the music started.
Cecelia squirmed next to her until she almost said, “Quit fidgeting.” And thought of Bertie.
The time came for the speaker. His words nullified every- thing Edwina thought to use as an excuse not to live her life fully. The man told a story about his son who had worked long and hard hours to be a doctor. He had just received his medical degree and was killed by a drunk driver only three weeks later. He’d died before he could become all that he could be.
Edwina sat motionless. Even Cecelia had stopped her nervous twitching.
The sermon finished and last hymn duly sung, they walked out into the sunshine. Cecelia put on her sunglasses.
“We’ll walk back.” She started off. Edwina followed. No words were spoken. When finally they’d reached home, Edwina was truly
shocked that her sister had not once complained about her spiked pumps even though they must have walked ten blocks or more.
“What time is our reservation?” Edwina left her flats at the door.
“We’re not going.”
Edwina didn’t even ask why. She thought she might know. Instead, she went to the Rose Room, carefully put her skirt and blouse away, and dressed in her worn jeans.
“Want to make lunch?” She found her sister in the kitchen, which was usually Spencer’s territory. She had changed into tan dress pants and a matching sweater, the closest thing to relaxing Edwina had ever seen her sister wear.
“Yes.” Cecelia’s head was in the refrigerator. “Not sure what we can fix up, but we can give it a try.”
“What have you got?”
“Hamburger, lots of it. Potatoes in the bottom drawer, instant ones in the cupboard. And several cans of green beans. Does that make a meal?”
“Sure does. We can make meat loaf. I’ll peel the potatoes so—” Edwina stopped.
“So?”
She was going to say, “So you won’t break your nails.” But that definitely was not nice.
“So you can make the meat loaf, then. It’s the worst job,” Edwina admitted.
“Why? It can’t be that bad.”
“It is. Here I’ll show you.” She threw a chunk of meat into a bowl, added a few ingredients: ketchup, raw eggs, oatmeal, and onion, and then said, “Time to mix.”
“I’ll do it.” Cecelia grabbed a large wooden spoon.
“Oh no, don’t get the spoon dirty. Here, you do it like this.” Edwina washed her hands and then shoved them into the bowl, squishing the meat and raw eggs between her fingers.
“That’s terrible.” Cecelia frowned. “Does Spencer do it that way?”
“All good chefs do... I think. You just can’t get a
ll the good stuff in the meat if you don’t do this.”
to.”
“Well, I’m glad you did it because I don’t think I want
“No, here. Try it.”
“No, you’re doing a fine job, Ed. I’ll peel the potatoes since you’ve got that in hand.” Cecelia was serious and then caught what she’d just said, and the girls laughed.
She took several potatoes out of the bag and said, “Are they always this dirty?”
“Yep. Peeler is over there in that drawer. I don’t know how you’ll ever find it. You could build an entire house with that drawer load of tools.”
Cecelia fished and fished until she found something and came up with a cheese slicer. “Is this it?”
“No, there.” Edwina pointed with her messy hands.
“Oh, this little thing?”
“Sis, haven’t you ever peeled potatoes before?” Edwina tried to be diplomatic. She just had to know.
“I can’t remember.”
“Okay, well, let’s get the show on the road. Where are your baking dishes?”
“How should I know?” her sister squeaked. She was intent on using the potato peeler correctly.
“Which way do you peel? Outward or toward you?”
“Doesn’t matter, whichever works best.” Edwina washed her hands and was going through drawers.
Twenty minutes later the meat loaf was in the oven and the potatoes were bubbling in a pot of water on the restaurant-size stove.
“Well, that sure smells good.” Cecelia was washing her hands. “But now I’m going to have to see Cynthia this week. I broke two nails doing it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s why I don’t do these things.”
“I’m going to make a list of things I need to do, sis.”
“You go ahead. I’m going to read awhile.” Read? Since when did Cecelia read? She attended meetings and read only agendas and such things. Reading contracts, recipes, and fiction were left to the professionals.
When the list was finished, Edwina went searching for her sister. The place had enough square footage you could easily lose a person. When she’d tried everywhere and could not find her, she shrugged and headed for the den. Which is where she found Cecelia. On the loveseat reading.
“What are you reading?” Edwina asked quietly, trying to be nonchalant.
“Emma. It’s by that Jane Austen woman. You know she was English.”
“I know.” Edwina smiled and her heart jumped for joy.